Archive for December, 2013

The capitalist in the hatcheck bar
suggested to the coatroom girl insofar
as tips were concerned she could go far,
for flirting brought her twenty-five cents,
while cleavage shown was a dollar,
and sharing her tits would pay the rent
and get her a fox fur collar,
while I think if she had any sense
his nuts with her knee she should clobber.

— Smith, 1.1.2014

Almost ran dry, but this popped out. Woke with “a capitalist in a hatcheck bar” in my head, and fleshed it out while soaking in a hot bath.

Humor, truth, rhyme, brevity . . . good enough for my final poem of the year (dated tomorrow because I’m writing a poem a day for as long as I can, and this is tomorrow’s poem today).

Again, tomorrow’s poem today, for a poem-a-day since October 1. I work a day ahead to give myself a creative safety net, so that’s 92 poems written and posted in 91 days. Did not think I could do this. Trying for at least 8 more for 100.

Odd what comes out when you HAVE to write a poem. Things I’ve not liked I had to go with because of time spent in day’s went, so I kept chipping away the ugly to make them as real as possible.

Extremely satisfying process. Thanks to John Burroughs and his Crisis Chronicles Press for getting me on this path when he asked 8 of us to write 31 poems for October (Lady, Shelley Chernin, Mary E. Weems, Steve Brightman, John Swain, John Burroughs . . . the 8th poet dropped out). Told him I doubted I could do it. Go figure.

I been Christian, athiest, agnostic, Buddhist,
anamist most
(though never communist)
and through it all been blessed,
yet see for most it’s Mao or less a mess,
never what’s right or best,
just how to bring in more by giving less.

Vroomin’ past Vrooman Road
60 miles east to ma-&-pa-in-laws house we go
(Lady trying to sleep en route)
for gifts and greetings and early Christmas eating
amidst the snow and row
(secret tokes outside in blow)
and when done’s said
instead of home to hide from cold
100 miles southwest to more in-laws cause
(Lady ensleep, me enwheel)
for gift and greeting and too much food eating
more magic tokes in the snow
hidden from in-law know
hours to go
meat dairy egg prowl vegan stomach
sleep slides down eyes
which pop in surprise when small dog
raises hind and pisses on Lady’s leg
till 12 hours ending we head 60 miles north to home
(Lady alay in sleep, sleep atugging my peeps)
on Xmas empty roads
no one in either direction as far as the crow can cry
me unasleep at the wheel.

Lady’s changing to her running clothes
(only 4 miles this morning).
When she was topless I said,
You know, we should paint your boobies blue,
then we could call them bluebies,
you could go blueberry picking naked
and folks would never know you’re nude,
they’d just say
Look at them berries ! ! !